


The Whisperers

by hummingrightalong, itslifethatscaresmetodeath



Series: The Whisperers. [1]
Category: Fear the Walking Dead (TV), The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: A lot of people and animals ahem shiva that I didn't want to die, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, I wanted them alive and AMC is full of dumbasses, Just a lot of characters - Freeform, M/M, So don't be alarmed, jaaron - Freeform, too many to name - Freeform, trick - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-11-15 11:22:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18072518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hummingrightalong/pseuds/hummingrightalong, https://archiveofourown.org/users/itslifethatscaresmetodeath/pseuds/itslifethatscaresmetodeath
Summary: The Whisperers are handled our way. Will cross over into fear the walking dead but give it a chance, pretty please? :)





	1. Jesus Saved

**Author's Note:**

> This 1st chapter I thought I'd posted a long time ago but I guess not...

You know, I never trusted Arat. I don’t think most people did even after her plea for forgiveness and how helpful she'd been when we accepted. 

But Jesus, and a few of the others, insisted on coming out here and seeing what our friends had sworn was a new breed of Walker.

Bullshit. 

I called it and I sure as hell wasn’t wrong. Wouldn’t know that for a while, though I certainly didn’t have any doubts.

Everything about this was the perfect recipe for disaster. The dark, the graveyard, the hazy night, all adding to the uneasiness we all already felt.

“Bad fucking omen,” I commented. Probably to my damn self. 

The three of us, Aaron, Jesus, myself- four I guess including Arat but I don’t really count her, had a tentative plan and a formation to follow.

I watched the hoard myself for a long time, we all did from the edges of the circle they walked. A few of them on the outside seemed to have a predetermined path almost. The others followed suit and I’d even had the time to see them hunt earlier. 

By all accounts the only difference was the whispering, the clear as day speech coming from all of them at one point. 

Unfortunately I can’t disagree with the idea that this can’t go unchecked. 

I send the others to their posts; far away from any possible routes the herd could take, change suddenly to trap someone. If it’s going to be anyone in a pinch it’s going to be me. I can make it out. I know that. 

Jesus and Aaron attack when small sections of the herd go for them, and between defending myself and shearing down the numbers I see the distance between my friends growing.

Then the worst thing happens. 

Paul springs up, slashing at one, and it catches his hand. Shit. I wait for the sound, I wait for a signal, but I’m not close enough to do what might need doing. I can’t see Aaron’s face, only Paul’s. The thing behind him looks even more wrong than the ‘wranglers’ at the edges of the pack had looked before.

It’s turned him around, wrestled his weapon away. The tip points into his back, just below the ribs and angled up. The intent is clear. The action of pausing and leaning to one side; I can clearly see through the whole mess a set of clear blue eyes widen while the thing lingers near his ear.

Even worse, just before it forces the blade up - I didn’t see it at the time but he twists just enough to make sure the tip doesn’t reach his heart as was obviously the intention.

Still, seconds before he drops like a sack of potatoes, crumpled and seemingly dead, the eye contact lingers for me to see the realization that these are his final moments. *Well, I guess this is goodbye Daryl*. Sonuvabitch. Why me. Why not Aaron.

In spite of the mass of dead things lingering around him, the tallest one here, who can probably see everything over most of these disgusting rotting bodies, dispatches anything and everything in his way.

Aaron sobs, and I’m trying to get a clear shot before the blond man screams “Wait! He’s breathing!” He leaves his side for a second, mapping out a clear path. Catching the one that still carried Paul’s sword at his side- it drops it when it sees the panicked human. Faster than I’ve ever seen the guy move- and he’s not a slacker- he takes up the discarded weapon and hacks the thing’s head off in a few swings. Oddly enough, that distracts a few dozen of the dead momentarily. They turn to the body, and just as soon as the blood stops draining from the stump where it’s head used to be- they turn away.

Dog already has the head in his jaws and he’s running like a bat out of hell. If I had time I’d tell him to drop it. Then I realize- that was blood. A lot of blood. Fresh and bright red.

Arat is screaming. Aaron tells her clearing over the din of the moaning and writhing mess of dead to SHUT THE FUCK UP. Then he’s making sure Arat does shut up, forever, and I get to Jesus’ side just as Aaron grabs fistfuls of the little rat’s clothing and throws her into the walkers. It buys us time. He picks up his boyfriend, like a little broken bird in the bigger man’s arms, and runs like hell to the closest safezone. 

As soon as we’re in the medical tent, as soon as the big baby sets Paul down, he sobs, shakes, and I do my best to keep him on his feet while we explain what happened. The Walkers ought to be entertained with Arat for a while, which Aaron swears for the moment got distracted watching one of them *think* to take Jesus’ machete and spin him around, stab him in the back. I let him have that for a moment. It’s not important and it’s not going to break any hearts.

***

Several tense days, combined with the efforts of our doctors and more than one emergency run for antibiotics and painkillers, Jesus wakes up. Sore from head to toe, but miraculously (maybe he is the second coming) he can feel his legs, move his toes. Alive and not even paralyzed. Goddamn.

Aaron doesn’t leave his side. We were already debating getting the hell out of this part of the country but the big guy tells us we have two choices- all together or the two of them are gone as soon as the doctors say he can travel.

I don’t disagree and nobody else really puts up a fight.

Especially when Dog finally relinquishes his prize. The jagged neck wound is something we’re used to, but peeling back a second layer of walker skin like a leather mask- well, that decides it.

Rick just shakes his head, puts his hand over his mouth. He’s got that look I know means he’s going to puke, blinking hard and turning away as if that’ll save the sight burned into his mind or the putrid smell invading our nostrils. Underneath that horror was a human until Aaron hacked it’s head off. “Good dog,” my man whispers. I know his whole heart isn’t into it completely. “Where is Arat?” He opts for, to divert attention away from the disgusting revelation.

“Ask the big guy.” Rick raises his eyebrow at me but Aaron, overhearing, interrupts.

“Needed a distraction.”

“He turned her into a goddamn bowling ball.”

“She wouldn’t stop screaming.”


	2. Beta

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The leaders of each community decide not to let the threats of Alpha, or her Walker army, stop them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> itslifethatscaresmetodeath's chapter!

It was meant to be a statement. To show this new threat that they'd been there, had established their colonies long ago, before these nomads had wandered in. They were United and standing their ground...but it had ended in tragedy. As the fair went on, the kingdom burned, many of their friends had met a gruesome end atop pikes meant to signify the whisperers borders. 

The sick bastards had mounted them there in such way as to not destroy the brain so there they were, the heads of their family and friends, people they'd known and come to love that'd been stolen away in the night. Just left to the awful date of a reanimated head with a familiar face snapping and biting, trying to get a piece of them.

They - Michonne, Ezekiel, and Jesus (still the acting leader of Hilltop) had decided unanimously, with their colonies behind them, that there would be retribution before their retreat. Yes, they were going to run. People walking around in skin suits was apparently everyone's proverbial 'line in the sand'. who knew? They began preparing the wagons and the few vehicles they had left in good enough working order. 

The survivors emptied Alexandria first, loading up everything they could salvage before moving everyone to hilltop, safety in numbers, a smaller area to keep a vigilant watch over. Also a good place to trap them all in one go but that wasn't going to fucking happen. 

Ezekiel himself had gone into the woods with his remaining warriors and precious pet. On the second day, just as the sun was setting on the horizon, they appeared, had returned without even one man lost, their prize, alpha in chains and the news of many enemies slain. Even after being forced to kneel before Jesus and Michonne, she claimed that it wouldn't have been necessary if they hadn't napalmed the walker hoard she'd shown Michonne. Like human life meant as much to her as those walkers...

'No', Zeke had said, 'Do not pretend to mourn the twice dead and never known or loved by you. Do not pretend to respect the mortal repose of a shield you hide behind to ambush people in their own territory. What you mourn, is the weapon you lost. What you mourn is the loss of your anonymity and it's ability to keep you safe from being accountable for your crimes.' Zeke always has a speech and this time was no exception.

Back on that day, standing atop the wall with alpha, looking across a fucking city block, packed with walkers tighter than sardines, Alpha hadn’t known it yet, been too confident, too egotistical to realize. it was a 'warning' she'd said, adding that Alexandria's leader should feel grateful for it. But Michonne had warned her, in he very Michonne way and informed the others upon her return home. They'd formulated a plan the neutralize the threat. Napalm had been shown to slow the infected down, and within the confined space Eugene was confident he could mix up something to destroy or at the very least severely reduce the efficacy of her army. 

And that was her reason for the atrocities she'd committed against innocent human victims. Like it was equal somehow. And now, she'd suffer. she'd pay...Only then, as she realized this, did her sanity seem to magically return as she attempted to relate on a more human level. In her cell she spoke of the beginning, of a man who didn't respect the boundaries of even husband and wife. She pleaded as a mother...

Too bad she couldn't have known that the last person she should try selling that story to was...Carol. Who knew a battered woman when she saw one, excelling only in her ability know what bullshit both looked and smelled like. Carol invented bullshit.

***

Beta was still out there though, and they couldn't risk him following them away, trying to avenge the loss of their leader or in defense of whatever the fuck it was those freaks stood for.

Paul had a hard time believing their was much loyalty amongst people who leave babies who cry to be devoured and then allow the children who actually grow up to be raped until they learn to be...not weak? Even if that wasn't a bit of a trigger for him, this fucker, Beta had to die...or was he the new Alpha? Lydia had tried to explain how these *people* worked but if he was being honest, he didn't really want to understand them, not then, not now.

But Beta seems to have disappeared - funny, he wasn't shy before...so this time, they had to go to him. or wait for him to come to them. whichever came first. just hopefully far away from the people still left at hilltop, which is why they've elected to send every able body with a weapon to keep their eyes on the perimeter.

And Paul will not be the one asking his people to risk their lives while he stays behind in bed. He'd done enough healing, had to take it easy but Siddiq had reluctantly agreed that he could go. with Aaron. To the place Eugene had devised would be the least like to see any action. 

Of course...he'd also said the walkers were evolving but he was more often right than wrong. it had to be a one off... you'd think.

You'd be right beside Eugene in the wrong column. Maybe Beta was looking for an easy fight. Maybe he had something to settle with Paul in particular. Maybe it was a complete coincidence and no one was to blame…

***

The couple camp out, taking turns taking watch just to follow protocol. Aaron spends most of his time worrying over his boyfriend, the strain camping out might put on the physical therapy and recovery that Jesus is basically handling himself.

Jesus spends his free time when Aaron is sleeping doing what he used to do and still does best- training. He's careful and slow...just like doctor's orders, but he's not letting this beat him or slow him down.

Good thing too. There's a few walkers shambling in the distance while Aaron sleeps. It's been a couple days with barely a peep on their side and to be honest they'd both enjoyed the time to themselves while both secretly hoping at the chance to finish this themselves. They were always more than capable in a fight and it would mean that no one else could possibly get hurt.

Paul can immediately tell that these walkers are moving differently- not living...but being led.

He takes care, dispatching them by slicing off grasping limbs to slow them down and put them down. Responsibility puts his usual instincts out of the equation and he harshly whispers at Aaron to wake up.

Just in time too, there's more dead headed from another direction. But the biggest threat is the large man not even trying to blend in as he lunges in the dark for Paul.

Maybe he knows Paul is the Hilltop leader, maybe he just thinks he'll be the weaker fighter. He's in for a surprise.

In hands that size a twin pair of knives are no joke and it should be blasphemous to call them any less than swords. 

Beta swings them around, going high and low but Paul sidesteps him, wrenching a weapon out of the big guy's hand by grabbing a wrist and flipping backwards.

He's quick for the lumbering giant freak he is, something no one would take lightly after Negan had come back with stories about the awful camp of freaks and begging asylum, prison again.

So when Beta spins around, swinging for him even while shrieking in pain over his other broken wrist, Paul ducks before Aaron can even scream to do it.

Aaron has managed to clear out some dead, give himself room to get an eye on the fight nearby. He fires a shot into the big guy's back when he sees that his boyfriend is out of the way. Beta drops like a stone.

At the same time, Paul pulls his gun out and shoots in the distance behind Aaron.

Perfect team indeed.

Just as they're packing up, preparing to end this once and for all by putting Beta down, they have a laugh when they remove his mask and reveal his relatively well known face. In the old world anyway.

"Is that?"

"Yeah I saw him play once, imagine going from that life to this."

"No. Just...no."

At that moment the formally professional athlete (should've figured with that build) sits straight up and screams about his anonymity. Too late buddy. Another shot rings out while the shocked couple cling to one another. Jesus ends the bastard once and for all, a clean shot to the head.

"Oh thank God. But you should've seen yourself just now babe."

"What?"

"Nothing." There was no way Aaron would make good on the threat he'd entertained, hereby calling his baby Jesus "Kitty Paws" Rovia. It had been hilarious. Then again, whatever his own reaction had been was probably equally embarrassing.

Fuck it. This was over. And now what was left of their people could move on from this damned place.


	3. The Commonwealth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Commonwealth seems like the perfect place to settle, but inside it's full of corruption. Aaron find da himself in high regard because of his former political career. Paul doesn't receive the same respect.  
> Talk of a negan redemption...

There hasn’t been any sign of human life for miles. Aside from finding Dexter, the trip had been business as usual.

Isn’t that just how shit goes. A few members of the party begin to understand why their friends from Georgia are always so twitchy.

Because just as they’re getting comfortable (albeit a little bummed at the sudden realization that the middle of the country seemed to have no discernable settlements) the old scouts and scavengers from each community take notice and report to their de-facto ‘leaders’ of the three communities that they’ve noticed an armored man or two quickly dashing away as they drive by.

In fact, it’s not until they near a wall with faded notes and photos that they’re suddenly greeted by a small army. A man faking a comforting smile hops off his horse, begins an intriguing speech about an impossible community beyond the seemingly isolated (and kinda optimistic but ultimately depressing) installation they’re parked near. The place is called the Commonwealth, apparently, and that so far gives them less than Hilltop, Kingdom, or Sanctuary ever did. Even Alexandria had been known to people before it became a safe zone.

A few of the soldiers start talking about the inside, the most staggering detail being the sheer numbers. Possibly thousands? Impossible. There’s no reason to lie about it though, and the more talking they all do, the more reading of one another, the travelers begin to consider an off of just meeting with the leader.

Then the talk of handing over weapons is made, and it almost comes to moving on before it’s agreed that their caravans and belongings can be parked safely outside. For now, the “bigshot” leading the soldiers says ominously.

Yeah buddy, sure.

***

Once they’re inside the main gates the possibility that this place was being undersold crosses a few minds.

Then again, as Aaron whispers to Paul, he’s beginning to see why Alexandria and his pitches about it, made some people nervous. This place is obviously massive, and all the representatives can talk about are it’s old world human comforts. The baseball games, the neighborhoods, the shopping district (what?). Aaron steels himself, thinks back to his days in politics and makes a convincing request that he and his family see this leader first, who- not unlike Deanna years ago- preferred to meet as many newcomers as possible in person.

“Paul was injured recently, if we’re going to talk about settling, I’d like to get past the introductions as soon as possible so he can visit what no doubt must be an impressive medical facility-” A little ass-kissing never hurt, and his tone more than implied that if he didn’t see some of the wonders everyone had been talking about, that they might be over-selling it.

That gets him into the Governor’s (Rick had cringed at the name, as did several others) office first, Paul right behind him.

She invites them to sit down in her comfortable office. It would be overkill in the old days, everything pristine white down to her sensible pumps. Not a scratch or blood stain on anything inside the place so far.

“What did you do...before,” she adds the last as if it’s more important than anything in the world and Aaron thinks he knows where this is going but he lets his boyfriend speak first.

“I owned a gym, trained MMA fighters, taught the occasional kids’ class and a few yoga sessions...” he starts, sounding a bit nostalgic but his old life was a distant memory and there were more important things to tend to. Like comforting the fussy Dexter in his arms. The girls are in tow, and scramble onto Aaron’s lap as soon as their parents are seated. “But I ran the community we left. Scavenged, scouted.”

“He kept that place going, inspired most of the people you saw with us, and protected us all from several serious threats-” The ‘Governor’ waves a hand.

“We’ll have time to talk about all of that. But we like to get back to the norm here, that’s how people stay safe and comfortable.” Apparently they were already being brushed off for the most part. About to be put in their place as not useful to this close-minded politician that didn’t understand how the world worked now. “You’ll be more than comfortable here, and I could point you in the direction of some people that could help you settle in. There’s a lovely place just like that. It could use some extra help. The young man running in now is capable and motivated, but he doesn’t have as many years experience. Now, Aaron was it, what did you do?”

This seemed like his chance to gain full control of the system around here, at least close to it. As soon as “elected New York state auditor,” came out of his mouth the woman sat up straighter, obviously interested. Her tone changed to apologetic, friendly. As if they ran in the same crowds, as if they were suddenly buddies. On the same level, realistically. That was the game here. Aaron knew from the work he used to do what a system, successful or not, looked like. No amount of double checking the leadership or shifting the budget was going to fix a place like this, though. Not in times like these. Still, he could play the game, at least long enough for Paul to get some medical care. A few people in their party were also weak and suffering illness from traveling long and lack of nutrition and other essentials. They could be helped. These people had more than enough and *obviously* he could ask for anything. So he did.

“Of course, of course. You have medical professionals in your party? Obviously the outside has lead all of you to train in being proficient with weapons but-”

“Rick was a sheriff, Shane was his partner. They’re tough and brilliant strategists. I’d highly recommend letting them ride with your security detail for a day or two. You’ll see they’re a good fit.”

“Of course, of course. But first, let me show you to the hospital, and then to somewhere comfortable to rest.” She smiles genuinely. Much to the restrained irritation of Paul, she stops in front of Dexter, a curious smile on her face. She ruffles his hair, coos at him. The baby would rather have daddy, and there’s a heft to the words when she says “aww, Daddy’s boy, hmm?”

A file on her desk Aaron had noticed her worrying over is closed in her hand. She puts it away in the cabinet, looking as if her spirit had suddenly been lifted by the short interview.

***

Siddiq is already standing by when Paul and a few others are checked out, the doctors of this place asking him a question or two. Mostly where had he trained, what his credentials were, the nice job he’d done patching Paul up. They give him something for the pain and change his bandages, that’s just about it. Some PT exercises on a print out, and that’s it.

***

The place Paul and Aaron are lead to, personally by this Governor woman, is almost as lavish as her office. She talks about him taking a look into their system, gives him loads of files (he feels like he’s on god-mode, just thumbing through a few papers to realize he has their entire system in his hand).

As soon as she leaves Aaron begins apologizing. “I know what you’re thinking…”

“That you called me your husband, talked for me, got this fancy ass place because of what you used to do? I’d be pissed if you did it for a thrill, but it was necessary. Obviously. And what’s her deal with the baby?”

“I don’t know. There’s a lot going on here. I’m going to talk to Rick about sticking around a while. As soon as it gets too dodgy, I promise, we bolt.”

***

Rick gets a detail with the security team, and a pretty comfortable setting himself. Well below the Rovia family, in a different...neighborhood. Somehow Michonne and Andrea’s backgrounds afford them a similar place. They meet every day, after someone checks in with Aaron, sees what he’s dug up. They’re nearing a week when it’s obvious they have to get out of this place.

Sitting in a shopping pavilion, having lunch, Rick tries to lighten the mood between talking about making their escape. Because yes, it’s come to that. The higher up the rungs you are the less chance you have of getting out. So Aaron’s family was definitely in danger. Rick was going to have to use his connections to make a distraction soon. He’d have to get a message to Daryl on the outside, who’d stayed behind with some others, waiting. He’d had a feeling he wouldn’t fit in there and it was best to have a team of people on the outside if things went south. Boy was he right.

“Imagine...surviving the end of the world just to be a waitress...again, if that’s how it always shakes out..”

Michonne covers her mouth, and before Rick can even apologize to the woman coming to take their order, he’s given a free and clear. The woman obviously sees him as ranking above her, says it’s no trouble and she’s ‘very happy and grateful’ to be inside instead of out. The former officer’s best friend barely holds in her laughter until the woman has walked away. “Forgetting how creepy that was...Carl’s right, you are the most embarrassing…”

***

Aaron is confident after a few days, and a few meetings with the leader of the place, to ask her directly about the oddness of their first encounter.

“I noticed there was some awkwardness when you met my family?” Pressing his luck, he waits for a response. The woman smiles and shuffles through some files, handing Aaron a sealed folder. Inside are photos and ‘useful details’ about a couple of familiar faces.

“Now, I’m betting you didn’t see them in the best of shape...that’s a shame. They were good people, skilled, valuable to this place. But they had caused a lot of trouble, civil unrest even.”

***

“Are you saying they were leading some kind of coup?”

“To put it bluntly. They were in positions much like you. I wish they’d just thought to talk to me, to work something out. If there was trouble in the system I would have taken a look at it. That’s the idea here. Safe. Back to the norm.” She said those exact words a lot, and Aaron guessed, despite the notes in the folder, she was 90% full of shit. The guy had been shot, Daryl had guessed. Guess he was right. By these people. Probably for seeing the creep factor around here, and if they did warn people they were trying to do best by other families, do the right thing. His family was just going to get the hell out of here. But first, he’d play the game, keep this woman feeling ‘safe’ with his advisement.

***

 

They try it on Siddiq first. And Enid can’t help herself, she has a bit of a laugh when someone uses the phrase ‘but you’re such a catch’. He politely turns them away, because that’s who he is and what he does.

Alex reacts differently. He’s been with Siddiq since shortly after losing Wes during the struggle with the Whisperers. They weren’t nearly as much of a ‘thing’ as these two are. And Alex isn’t nearly as polite as his boyfriend.

“No fucking thank you. First, I’m gay. Secondly, I’m with him.” He doesn’t meet a beat during the standard check-up he’s performing for a high society type.

The society is really fucked up around here, Enid can tell right away. She wasn’t aware of just how weird it got today. Encouraging certain people to seek long term birth control methods, ‘matchmaking’.

It’s her effort to seek out something a little more reliable than condoms for herself when things all go downhill. She asks about an IUD, and the lady doctor looks disappointed.

Enid spends a few minutes listening to what a waste it would be. How she’s smart, beautiful, how it’s the prime time of her life. She almost wishes part of their plan wasn’t to have half of their party stay outside, Carl included, so she could share this insanity with her boyfriend or have him as a shield. He’d handle this gracefully. But out of curiosity, and not rocking the boat, until certain members of their group get what they want from this place (she, Alex and Siddiq had been slowly funneling medical supplies to the caravan outside) she agrees to go on a ‘date’.

***

“Umm...so, hi-” A pleasant voice speaks before she even sees his face. The restaurant (yeah…) is pretty ritzy so she’ll enjoy this totally funded dinner while telling mr. perfect match to fuck off.

“This isn’t a date. I have a boyfriend.”

“That’s good! That’s fine. I’m not really into this either. My parents are pushing me. I’m Nate. And you are?”

“Enid.”

“That’s pretty.”

“Like I said, boyfriend.” She has to admit, just to herself, that something about his eyes are comforting. And... familiar?

The guy looks around, mumbles again how that’s just fine, and whispers back “that’s not why I agreed to talk to you when I heard you were one of the new people…” The way his eyes dodge around, the way he seems to know just when the police that patrol the streets are coming and from where peak Enid’s interest.

“Let’s go for a walk.”

***  
Rick has found himself a place among the guards, but Enid doesn’t bring her new friend there. Too many loyal ears to overhear his plea to get the hell out of this place.

Nathan seems to know his way around, but without Enid, and furthermore Aaron’s word that she has every right to join him, they’d never get into the district the Governor had put Aaron and his family up in.

It’s the kind of place where you can barely see your neighbors. In spite of half the building being built in that modern style with too many large glass windows, it’s concealed in a wooded area and in the distance the long driveway there is watched by more guards during their rounds.

They somehow dodge them, sneaking into Aaron’s house from the back. He seems to be home alone, doors unlocked.

Enid tiptoes up behind him, smiling wickedly when she puts a hand over his mouth. He’s reading some files that make a shiver run down her spine. She remembers helping bury these people. Dexter’s family.

“Hey. Where’s Jesus?” The young woman asks, still grimacing until Aaron closes the file and turns around to embrace her. Over her shoulder a man about her age looks around nervously.

“I don’t know where they’ve taken him this time. And who the hell is that?” Enid explains, every last sickening detail of the elite’s attempts, filling in the gaps and making an assumption that the poor kid wants the hell out of here just as bad as they do. The whole time she lets poor Nathan hang a bit until it’s time to shake hands. He prickles when Aaron’s prosthetic rests on his shoulder during the introduction. As if she knows what Aaron is thinking, Enid nods and smiles when her friend relaxes. He looks into the young man’s eyes while they talk and immediately trusts him. He wonders if his other friends would do the same but there’s something about this guy.

Anyway, after a short explanation about how his parents had settled here without a second thought as soon as they’d found it- actually, it had been a different state and a smaller version of the place. They’d been ‘upgraded’ to this one when construction was finished. It was huge, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been outside of it. Nathan just knew that whatever was out there wasn’t half as creepy as the shit going on inside.

“I even thought about trying to get a spot with the so called ‘police’, but I was told I wasn’t the right fit. I have a job around here, nothing special really, and it’s not the first. It’s like they’re not sure what to do with me.”

“That’s enough to be nervous about.” Aaron interjects.

“You have no idea. It’s kind of the same with anyone who came here before they were old enough to start a career...But all the moving around gives me even more reason to be nervous. I couldn’t help but notice what you were looking at...and he looks awfully familiar.” Nathan gestures to baby Dexter, giggling and flopping around after a freshly changed diaper. He decides to keep to himself how impressive that is for a guy with one hand to accomplish.

“You recognize him?”

“His family was important. They decided to move. Left in the middle of the night. I remember hearing shooting from the shopping district. The guard chased them out. I thought they were all dead. You and your kids aren’t safe here.”

“We know. Enid wouldn’t have brought you here if you didn’t feel the same about yourself?” This could be a double cross, certainly, but the other half of their party is ready with fighters and firepower. And after everything they’d done with Paul, Aaron couldn’t wait to get out. He’d already been entrusted with access to private files and was studying quickly while the rest of his friends on the inside funneled out resources in the night.

“Please get me out of here.”

“Working on it. When the time comes you’ll know. Enid, keep an eye on him? No offense but we can’t afford not to.”

Enid nods wickedly, ready to play good little stepford herself and enjoying it a lot more than Jesus was. “I won’t let my perfect match out of my sight.”  
***  
They take Jesus to the spa first, several women usher him from station to station, cleaning and scrubbing and primping. When he asks why a bunch of women are bathing him, they all laugh, "I highly doubt your husband would be pleased with another man touching his - touching*you*."

He knows what they mean to say, they see him as Aaron's property...he *really* can't wait to get the fuck out of this place. He has to almost literally fight them when they try to shave his beard. They ask him 8 fucking times if he's sure, growing more impatient. It's only when he tells them, bile rising in his throat, that Aaron prefers him this way, that they relent and it's all smiles again.

The next stop is the shipping district (yep, the fucking *shopping* district) and he's not even surprised that they have a store dedicated to their...special needs - lingerie specially made to be flattering to the male form (he doesn't know how this caters to their ideal old world utopian vision but he's kinda missing homophobia in a big way). Inside is his worst nightmare. He's transported back to the 5 months he spent with Robert, a man who liked him to wear...pretty things. Who became increasingly controlling and abusive, his kinky side coming out in a big way. And kinky is putting it mildly.

They don't even ask his opinion, just fill bags and bags of shit that triggers the fuck out of him and he feels himself regressing. It isn't until he's kneeling on their bed, waiting for his *husband* to come home, wearing shit he'd sworn he'd never be caught dead in again...it's all Aaron's favorite shade of pink (yes his favorite color is fucking pink and Paul used to think that was adorable but at the moment...not so much). They didn't and don't care that *Paul's* favorite color is green...not that this shit comes in green. Does it? Fuck he hopes not. so blush fucking pink...He's never been so clean and felt so dirty in his whole life. Not even...before.

And Aaron, bless him, he could have taken advantage *so* easily. Especially considering the *extra* measures they'd taken.

As if they didn't trust the psychological warfare they'd been inflicting on him to ensure that he'd do his job and "please his man*, they'd slipped him something to make him more receptive when he wasn't looking. Before he knows what's happening, he's high as fuck and incidentally, completely regressed. He'd been quiet and pliant as he let them dress him...Everything from his time there, the way they'd been treating him, it all just piled up, reminded him of the old days and he slipped away.

But whatever effect they were going for was completely lost on Aaron. When he walks into the room, his expression is of barely disguised horror. Paul makes an effort to start something, sitting up and pawing at Aaron's clothes until the other man catches both of his hands in his one good one. Paul looks confused, a little sad, a little scared, but Aaron is mostly struck by how blown his pupils are.

"Paul, baby, are you high?" he asks gently. In Paul's current mental state, he doesn't want to scare him or give him the idea that he's in any trouble. Even if Paul *did* slip up - and Aaron is well aware of his past - he'd never blame him for it after the way the past couple weeks have been.

Paul just looks genuinely upset at the accusation though, and Aaron kinda figures out what's going on here. "Of course I'm not fucking high, the kids - " It's almost scary to see the haze literally clear from his eyes and Aaron isn't quick enough to stop him before slaps himself like it will clear his mind faster. Paul looks down, horrified. "Wait, what the fuck am I wearing? Where have I been? I don't do drugs anymore..." he murmurs, mostly to himself then looks up at Aaron. "This place. is triggering. the *hell* out of me."

Aaron wraps him in one of his famous full body hugs, "I know baby. I know. we're getting out of here. I'm getting *you* out of here." Paul starts struggling to get out of the offensive garment. under other circumstances, it'd look kinda lovely on him but no. Not right fucking now.

He begins to panic when his shaking fingers and clouded brain can't quite get the hang of it the complicated straps...there's no way he got into this by himself and something about that makes Aaron lose himself for a second. He rips the fabric easily and instantly feels regret. Paul looks up at him, scared, flinches away. "Oh, no no no, baby. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you, I just wanted to get you out of that disgusting shit a quickly as possible...I wasn't - I wasn't thinking..."

Paul nods, biting his lip, "I know. I didn't mean to -"

"React however the fuck you need to react, Paul. Don't you dare try sparing my feelings," Aaron says, helping him the rest of the the way out of the ruined scraps of fabric and into one of his own sweaters, a comfy pair of sweatpants. Paul throws his arms around Aaron's neck and clings to him.

"I know who you are. I know you're Aaron. You love me," he whispers, and Aaron smiles, trying not to cry. Be strong.

"Yeah, I'm Aaron, and I love you, and I'm not leaving you alone with these freaks again."

20 minutes later, they're on the couch, watching the Powerpuff girls, their kids asleep curled up beside them in the blankets. Aaron isn't Robert. Aaron loves him. they have a family. fuck these people.

***  
It starts out innocently enough, he supposes. Except that the way Robert ‘asks’ him to wear the frilly things inside the package he’d opened while Paul sat up in bed, sheets pooled around his waist, didn’t seem as much of a question as it should.

There were plenty of warning signs about this guy, sure, but it’d been years since Paul hoped for anything that felt good, or normal, or felt like anything at all- Robert divides three lines of cocaine and doesn’t partake himself- too busy helping Paul into the complicated straps.

Had he even said yes? He hadn’t said no.

Oh well. He can feel the drugs burning through his system and *something* feels good. It’s not Robert’s hands- at least it shouldn’t be, they’re not any more gentle than the kisses and bites that leave marks blossoming all over his body. Somehow he hasn’t managed to mark his face up much with his hands- at least not often. Not when they have somewhere to be, and even if Paul wanted to explain he’s not permitted to speak.

Paul starts to wonder how long it’s been since he’s been outside. They’ve been at it constantly, and maybe that means the sex is good- or maybe it means he should run- but everything seems to happen so slowly and so quickly before he knows it he’s not even coming home to find increasingly kinky shit waiting for him.

He wakes up restrained.

He wanders into the kitchen for a small meal, mindful of the figure that his boyfriend wants. Robert is waiting there, like magic, like someone who knows better and Paul needs to keep around to control his impulses- that’s the impression he gets from the talk the older man calmly gives him while handing him a glass of water and two pills he states calmly are just aspirin.

It still doesn’t matter.

The frilly garments in pastels with the impossible straps. Seriously, he couldn’t even figure out how to get out of his own clothes, let alone fight the other man on ‘this isn’t really *my* thing’. He stops trying after a few times. There’s nothing like an open palmed slap to rile you up, man or woman, and the first time his new boyfriend did it he felt the distant insult urging him to fight back. That was the first day Robert made a rule about talking too much. Or at all if they were fucking. Really, once he tied him into those skimpy outfits, draped a gauzy cover-up over it and made him walk around to show off- occasionally to the friends that would show up and compliment the other man on how beautiful Paul was. He never got so much as direct eye contact, let alone a conversation.

His thin, almost feminine figure in the mirror has Robert whispering ‘beautiful’ even with Paul’s hollow eyes and growling stomach. The sickly color of his skin isn’t just the bruises. He fucks him against the hard surface of the sink, both of them watching their reflections. The look of distant bliss has a lot to do with the drugs, but Robert has a way of whispering things in his ear, things that seem to make *so* much sense at the time. Maybe he wants this.

It’s when he’s left alone for hours, tied in intricate knots to their four poster bed, that he starts just *trying* to see if he can escape. Eventually knots untie. Eventually Robert forgets him there long enough for the fog to clear. He slips away, again and again. Sickeningly enough, he tries to get back into the restraints before the other man comes home. He can’t think of what other ways he could possibly punish him. Even if he got away, where would he go?

No. That’s something he’d say. Right before padlocking the refrigerator or probably calling the police and telling them Paul had *issues* and he needed to take him.

One day, knots untie. Locks turn. He finds a simple t-shirt and pair of sweatpants in the closet. Sober enough at the moment to think he looks at the calendar. They’ve been dating about five months haven’t they?

He knows the fucker keeps an emergency cash stash around, he’s seen it when he’s fading into unconsciousness. He takes enough for a burner phone and a taxi to a shitty part of NYC, where Robert wouldn’t go. He’ll go from there.

***  
He blinks and he's back on the couch with Aaron, who is trying and failing not to cry. Then Aaron is holding him and Paul is vaguely aware that he's crying too. He hadn't meant to say any of it, thought it was just another flashback but apparently not.

"I don't know how I even remember that shit with how coked up I was," he tries to joke, sniffing hard and wiping at his eyes. He laughs but it sounds pathetic. At least to his own ears.

But Aaron doesn't think he's pathetic. He's probably told him worse than this, tried to turn the man off and away from him. But just like Elliot, he'd met every challenge with love and understanding.

***  
Jesus had met them once. They'd contacted him in his 20's because they had a kid who wanted to meet his big brother. The kid, he liked - spent as much time as his sanity could spare with him - but he'd refused to see *them* ever again after that day. Selfish, inconsiderate, unforgivable, assholes...these were just a few words that came to mind when he did allow his mind to drift to the subject but *evil*? He'd never gone that far.

Til now.

His father, if you could actually ever call him that - Paul Sr - has him by the wrist and Jesus is terrified for the first time in years. He hadn't even known his biological family had survived, let alone that they were *here*.

The people around them have kept him indoors, been telling him for the last 2 weeks that Aaron won't love him anymore if he's 'fat'. He knew deep down that it was bullshit but his past won't leave him be. His body dysmorphia had chosen the very worst time to rear its ugly head.

He figured he had to have dropped least 10 lbs and he keeps telling himself to fight, he knows he knows how...but he can't, he's frozen. He's...*afraid* and the weight he's lost is all muscle mass.

Jesus can hear the other man saying that there's no way in hell he or his friends are getting out of the Commonwealth. Jesus finds a renewed strength to fight back, the last thing he wants is to be a liability, a hostage thia bastard can use as leverage. But he doesn't move quickly enough, the man cruelly twists his arm until there's a loud crack. He practically growls the warning once more. They. Aren't. Leaving. not unless it's over his dead body...Then there's a tall, handsome young man in bloody fatigues strolling up to them with all the confidence and swagger Jesus has ever seen. The cocky smirk never leaves his face as he comes to a stop a few feet away, raises his pistol.

"Ok, that can be arranged," he says, and Paul Sr drops to the ground and instant later, a bullet hole in his forehead. "My name's Troy. Ya ok?" he asks.

Paul doesn't answer, can only stare down at the dead man, holding his wrist. he doesn't need a doctor to know it's broken. Then someone is scooping him up into their arms - not the man who shot his father, he's laying down cover fire as they close in on Aaron and the kids, protected behind a marble pillar.

Wait. What the fuck. He looks up, sees negan and almost panics but decides 'fuck it'. His wrist hurts, he thinks maybe he pulled a stitch because he can feel warmth that can only be blood seeping through his shirt...and right now, Negan I hardly the scariest thing around.

Amanda likely doesn't see it coming. She's in one of the vehicles pursuing them as they make their great escape. Troy - the man who saved Jesus, his name is Troy - looks a Daryl, "Can you make the shot?" he asks, looking down at the crossbow. Daryl makes a face like, 'who the fuck does this guy think he is? Can I make the shot?'.

A moment later, he proves his point as he fires a bolt straight through the windshield, killing her instantly. The vehicle loses control, swerves, and tumbles into a ditch. Paul watches, not breathing until Aaron pulls him back, tucks him into his arms with Dexter there to keep him distracted. "Don't look," he says, but truthfully, Paul feels nothing. He feels worse for Nathan.

Nathan. Oh shit.

He pulls away from Aaron to hold his baby brother, the instincts he thought he'd never posses taking presidence over his own feelings. "I I had no idea. Everything happened so fast, the city just fell and... I'm...I'm sorry," he tries to console the younger man but Nathan shakes his head.

"Don't. Nothing is your fault. And the way they treated you...what they did to you in the past. Just don't. I stopped giving a shit about them the moment they brought me to this awful place. And it's not like they gave much thought to where you've been since you blew them off."

Aaron is dying to ask but remains at a respectful distance until he can't keep Dexter satisfied any longer. The baby begins to cry, looking up at him like 'Your'e not the right one. Where is the *right* one, and what did you do with him?'

"Shhhh. Please just like me for 5 more minutes and let Daddy have this..." he whispers. He wants to give Paul a moment and on a slightly more selfish note, he knows this is probably the only chance hell get to hold his son for a while. It's not like he's been allowed much contact since they found the sweet little boy and he hadn't taken advantage of the situation while Paul was inside that awful place. He could have demanded access to their son at any time and Paul would have handed him over without question, eyes downcast, apologizing over and over again. But Aaron is a better man than that. He knows that much.

Yeah, no dice. Paul is on full alert and has the baby in his arms after the first little whimper, working his magic to quiet the child in the back of what looks like a military vehicle. Aaron wonders aloud if the men who'd come to their rescue are actually from the military. A tiny blonde girl to his right laughs.

"Military? No. Just...concerned and slightly nosy civilians." Troy smirks from his seat across from her.

"Definitely not military. Where ya'll headed?" he asks. Aaron shrugs. He really doesn't know. He'd snuck into the governess's office and read something on a map about a place called 'Odessa' out west...he thought they might shoot for that or at least somewhere near there. She'd bristled at the the very mention of the place so, well, anywhere the people of the Commonwealth didn't like seemed like a better idea than nothing.

"West," he answers, still not knowing the man well enough to give too much away. Troy nods, smiles for real this time.

"Well, you're in luck, friend. Looks like we're all going in the same direction. We could maybe put you up for a while."

"Where are you from?" Aaron dares to ask.

"Washington. Little place called Odessa," Troy says, like he sees right through him.

"They had a lot of information about a place called Odessa...Not the best opinion."

Troy and the girl beside him actually laugh at that. "Well, they wouldn't, would they?" she says. "Troy's been fucking their shit up for a while now."

"Didn't start it. Can damn well finish it though."

"Well, I'm grateful," Aaron says sincerely, glancing at Paul. "He needed to get out of there."

"Unfortunately, that kind of thing isn't just a one-off. I'm Gretchen, by the way...you must be important if they were working that hard to make you the perfect little stepford wife..." Troy gives her a look. "Sorry but it's true. You know what was going on there as well as I do." Troy shrugs, nods.

What should have taken weeks trekking across Idaho and into Washington takes a few days. Troy and his people had brought trailers and trucks with their guns and grenades. It was obvious he'd planned to take whatever the hell he wanted, by any means necessary. while they rounded up supplies, leaving the stunned citizens cowering in fear, he offered up some advice.  
"Yeah. Could maybe ease him in."

"He knows," she says. Aaron nods.

"I do. It was disgusting but - "

"But we really didn't have much of a choice. They were insane," Paul finishes for him, squeezing his arm to reassure him that it wasn't his fault. Aaron still feels guilty. "They made me take cooking classes, threw out food if I messed it up even a little. I had to fight the. To let me take care of my own kids - I told them I didn't want a nanny and they kept saying I needed to be free to 'please my husband'. They didn't even let me go outside for long, and not without an escort..." Paul probably doesn't even realize how much he's saying but Aaron figures it's healthy to let him vent. Daryl is sitting across from him, staring at the floor and it warms his heart to see the man's fingers tighten around his weapon.

He can feel Nathan watching him, not necessarily in a distrustful way, just studying him. He assumes he knew the man who came before him and is wondering if Aaron measures up. He's going to do everything in his power to prove he does, he hadn't been prepared to meet Paul's family. Hell, he'd been expecting to run into his own before that ever happened but he'll figure all that out when he's got Paul and the kids somewhere safe and comfortable.


	4. Odessa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group makes it to Washington state, where Troy Otto has set up his own community

'Otto', 'Odessa' - a name and a place, they begin hearing more and more after they leave the Commonwealth. Well, they'd heard it once on the inside before the speaker was hushed and sent away like he'd said Voldemort or something. Aaron had enquired about it (having been deemed the 'highest ranking' in their group or some shit), and been brushed off. All they'd given up is that he didn't want to know which wasn't exactly helpful. 

Luckily, Paul's brother, Nate - yeah. who knew? Well, Paul, for one, did know before the virus ended the world. He hadn't imagined many people could have made it out of the new Yorkers, it was one of the the first cities on the east coast to be cut off from civilization and bombed to hell. They barely bothered with evacuations, let alone a quarantine so he'd held little hope (or desire really on the part of his mother and father) of seeing his birth family again.

After spending 16 years in the system and 2 on the streets, he'd worked hard, fought for his survival and prosperity. At 22, he met a good man when he was at the lowest he'd ever been, od-ing on a Subway train and suddenly, there was light in his life. love he'd never felt. 3 years later after he'd gotten clean, therapy for his body issues and sexual hang ups - a diagnosis of fucking PTSD like he'd been to fucking war - his boyfriend's parents gave him a loan to buy the gym he worked at. For all intents and purposes, they were his family and it wasn't fucking fair that they hadn't made it. Not when Paul and Amanda seemed to have managed just fine. yeah, *paul*. His mother named her after the guy who took off, and when he didn't come back after 3 months, she abandoned him. 

Then, there they were, in his gym, after 25 years, wanting to get to know him. He tried, fuck he tried but couldn't manage, especially after they neglected to mention his half brother or that it was his birthday when they came to a BBQ at his boyfriend's parents house on the 4th of July. 

He'd married, lost his wife in an accident and found Amanda again on fucking Facebook. Nathan called her mom. He never saw either of them again. But kept a tenuous relationship with the kid. he was 14, it wasn't his fault. His boyfriend was always there to support, remind him that boundaries were ok...but he liked Nate. They surprisingly had a lot in common, not just their eyes.

So when it came time to get the fuck out of Dodge and the powers that be disagreed with their decision, drastic measures were taken. Amanda, tragically found herself in the crosshairs of Daryl's crossbow (fucking lol), and once they were clear, Rick revealed he'd done a thing. 

Nate had stowed away in their car - Paul hadn't even known he was alive, hadn't bothered to give his sperm donor or the incubator the time of day even though they'd managed to get themselves up quite a few rungs on the ladder. So he punched him. Rick, not Nate. Still doesn't know why but that was his reaction and well, time makes fools of us all. He'd apologized after explaining though Rick insisted he'd had it coming and then there was the actual awkwardness.

It wasn't as bad as he'd thought it should be. they caught up easily and fell into patterns Paul hadn't even noticed before all of this. he and Aaron got along great after Nate had actually mourned Elliot's loss...then they found out that Nate knew things. Important, useful things, and suddenly Paul wondered if this was the universe finally giving him his due diligence.

Otto? Troy Otto. Odessa? Washington. A man who'd established a settlement, a fabled fortress, cleared a path on the highway all the way into Canada, established a safe and fair market for trade or to stop for a breather before moving on. the Commonwealth apparently had a history of difficulty taking no for an answer and Troy had said the bad word. 

They didn't like him, is the point. he didn't play their game, didn't sound like the kinda guy who would really fit in at the Commonwealth but apparently, when who thing was an attempt to get Troy to do what he'd done before, clear a path from Wyoming to Washington so that they could explains their empire. 

They could recruit, rebuild the old world little by little...they'd tried several times to expand further on their own but it only led to disaster and failure. Troy had cleared highway in one shot. he'd done it with just a few people. It was imperative to acquire his skills and knowledge. and he'd told them where to stick it.

Sounded like their kind of guy. 

And Nate had been kind enough to get use his phone to snap some pics of the road map between Wyoming and Washington, a route that was reliable enough with marked 'rest stops'. markets, small colonies much like the ones they'd tried to maintain. But, here, the Commonwealth was their big bad, their bully. They'd gone from community to community, cherry picked the 'best of the bear' as they'd said, leaving some of them incapable of sustaining themselves. 

These had moved onto the next, joined the colony next in line. you could see that the Commonwealth had pretty much killed half the stops along the route halfway through Idaho. Uncool, Commonwealth. uncool. Apparently, Troy Otto agreed and hade set up protections for the people all the way down through Oregon, who has in turn had fortified those remaining in Idaho and an effectively stopped the Commonwealth in their tracks.

And he'd done it by empowering people to take care of and protect themselves. teaching them to trade and treat each other with respect through example. The Commonwealth wanted a utopian times capsule of a system that had never worked and never been fair. This guy wanted to keep the human race around by living as the minority to the dead and making the best of it by standing their ground but facing reality.

So that's where they were headed. Odessa, Washington. that seemed like their best possible chance at finally finding so peace if it was all they said it was. They had to try.  
54 survivors, Troy concluded after a quick headcount. All the way from Virginia, if what the man in front of him was saying had any merit. From the looks of them, it had to be true. They looked like they'd been to hell and back and probably wouldn't make it much further in this state. 

Rick, that was his name, was asking for asylum, begging really, but when he started to ramble, a younger man, taller than him stepped forward. He'd lost some weight, like the rest of them, his long beard probably not as well groomed as he'd like but his composure struck Troy, impressed him. So after they willingly handed over their firearms - he'd let them keep blades, “'Coop' over there sees everything. He'll put a bullet in you before you even get the idea to try anything. That ain't a threat. Just letting y'all know we can handle our own. But we respect the need to feel secure, you've been outside a long time. You'll likely get the rest of your weapons back in a couple days. Won't take me long to assess any...threat you might possess," he smirks on the word threat and it might be insulting if it weren't outright laughable in their state. 

"So you're letting us stay?"

"Ain't that what I said?" Troy asks...thinks a moment. "I did, didn't I? Sometimes my memory gets all turned around and upside down," he says seriously, pointing to a nasty looking scar near his left temple. "Little brush with death. Jury rigged brain surgery with power tools. Maite did a helluva job so I ain't complaining, just saying."

"You're saying it now so it doesn't really matter." Aaron is kind of this guy's biggest fan right now. He's *maybe* 30, been close to death and who knows what else, pulled off all this...

"Better give y'all the tour. I'll make it quick, get ya settled." Another man joins them then. He's Troy's age or close to it, his hair's a mess, close to dreadlocks down to his shoulders. His smile is genuine as he waves, loops an arm around Troy's waist, kisses his cheek. Troy pulls him closer with an arm around his shoulder. 

"I'm Nick. The husband," he says, extending a hand. Well that was kind of a surprise actually.

"Aaron. This is Paul, my boyfriend. Our kids, Gracie, Autumn, and...is he in your coat?" Aaron asks when he sees the traditional baby carrier is empty. Paul doesn't look the slightest bit ashamed. a little alarmed when Troy steps closer. Much closer. 

"Lemme see," he says. It's not a request and not a demand just weird. Nick laughs and shakes his head. Paul reluctantly shows the baby to the huge man. "Baby, we ain't got this flavor," he says, stroking the baby's flaming red hair. He doesn't ask and his hand is probably bigger than all of Dexter combined but impossibly gentle. 

"I swear, he doesn't eat them. we have three, Wyatt's 6 and the twin are 3. and they're completely un-eaten." 

 

***

Words fail to describe the compound; 'amazing' doesn't even begin to cover it and every new aspect they discover is enough to probably literally blow their minds. Several of the survivors are ready to cry uncle when Troy, the leader of the this incredible safe haven leads them to what he swears is the 'last bit ya know, for now' because they look like they've been 'rode hard and put away wet' and he isn't gonna be responsible for anyone's complications of shock.

It's a huge, two story building. From the outside it almost looks like an apartment complex, like anyone you might have seen in a suburb back in the old world. It's set in an L shape, next to the medical building and behind the main house, runs along one of the massive walls. 

Before anyone has the chance, Troy says, "Yep. we were kinda expectin’ visitors. Not quite this soon. Gotta shingle the roof and hook up the solar panels...the rooms ain't furnished either but we raided a mattress store a while back. They're in the trailer over there, still in the plastic, go on and help yourselves. Take any one ya want. Any room ya want too. Y'all seem ok, this'll work out..." The words seem cryptic, his sharp features lit only by the lanterns he's provided. A woman in her 60's with a kind smile had come out with a large basket of food for them, linens as well, apologising for the lack of electricity to provide an adequate shower their first night.

"This is more than we could have expected. It can wait, we've had far worse," Rick assured, thanking her profusely, trying not to notice Troy muttering to himself about how to route the main power to the building temporarily, seeming to have come to a conclusion a few moments later. 

Eugene, however, lacked the social propriety to let well enough alone but surprisingly joined in on the man's private conversation...with himself... rather seamlessly. He showed a tiny bit of surprise at the intrusion, initially but seemed to have concluded that 2 minds were better than one. In the end, their host appeared genuinely pleased with the collaboration and the plan they'd managed to concoct. 

"Anyhow, I'll get on it in the mornin’," he said as if he didn't realize he'd left them out of the loop, "I'll leave ya to settle ‘til then." And he did. 

They checked the place over, went room by room, weapons at the ready, cautiously optimistic but you can't be too careful. Jesus had just rolled his eyes and dragged Aaron off to find them a bed, "if there were dead' in here, you'd smell it before you walked in the door. All I smell, is fresh paint," he remarked, pointing out a sign taped to one of the the doors.

'Mind The Fuckin Paint This Time, Dipshits', it said but he isn't surprised that they - especially Rick's group (funny to think of them as Rick's group still, after 6 years), save for those who joined him at Hilltop and the king himself. To Ezekiel, it seemed logical and Jesus tended to be right about most everything. It was good enough for him but they'd leave the Alexandrians to their thing. 

Aaron assumed it'd be much like their group's first few weeks inside Alexandria's walls, holed up in the same room. But he'd been at Hilltop for years now, he'd had time to change his mind's process. Besides, when Jesus put his foot down, when he actually started to lose the outer shell of his seemingly endless inner chill, there was no arguing. Not that he wanted to. A real bed sounded wonderful. He was hungry and exhausted and getting the kids settled in was priority number one. Number two was having Paul checked out by the medical staff, which they were more than happy to do as he, Abraham, Sasha, Maggie, Alden, Magna, Yumiko, Connie, Nate, and Kelly worked together to quickly and efficiently move into their new apartments. 

By the time they were done, Paul had a clean bill of health. At least the Commonwealth had been good for something...which brought him to priority number three, making sure his love was as comfortable and content as he could possibly make him.

Lucky for him, Paul's always been easy enough to please (and that was NOT a euphemism). He'd told Aaron that a bite to eat and an orgasm would set him right as rain and with the kids sleeping as soundly as he'd ever seen, he was more than happy to oblige.

Daryl, for his part, played along with his people, as per usual, but it just didn't feel necessary. He could tell this guy, Troy set some of them on edge but not him and those walls put anything they'd ever seen to shame. 

Still, they crowded in together with their sleeping bags as the others, from the other communities - they'd have to start coming together better than this, that much was for sure - got their shit together right and quick. They were gonna stand out in a bad way...but it'd be ok. And if they didn't straighten out, he'd make em. This place was the last place they were ever gonna be. He'd already made up his mind on that.

"That Troy, he seem the slightest bit as shifty to you as he did me?" Rick asks when it's late and dark and quiet but Daryl isn't going to entertain this nonsense. 

"Nope," he says, simple to the point, and honest. He doesn't think he seems shifty because he isn't. He's just different and, hell, after this long with him, he should get that. By now. He's gonna try to assure Rick, he is. It's practically 95% of his job, being at his side, having his back, letting him know he thinks whatever the hell he's doing at that particular moment is the right thing. 

Unless it's not. And right now, he's not right. His instincts are just raw and worn and tired - like the rest of the him - so he'll do his best but after that, Rick can just calm *himself* the fuck down. He'll get there eventually but Daryl knows that if *he* feels better in this place, behind these walls, with these people...if *he* felt nothing from their host except someone who feels a little out of place entertaining, someone who might not always know what the right thing to say is or how to say it. It's why Daryl has been so quiet all his life. Words are fucking hard. People are fucking hard. Mix em up and forget about it, Daryl feels like Superman, just dipped in fucking kryptonite.

He'd overheard a conversation between the others before they'd laid down, hushed and just a bit paranoid if he's being honest. Troy has an accent. A southern accent. And Denise is convinced he's faking it. Don't get him wrong, he's proud of her, his little sister, but she might be worse at talking than he is in spite of her knowledge and the way she made it sound...it was less than ideal. 

"He's faking it. I'm positive. He is not from the south. Not a chance. He sounds like he is but he doesn't talk like it, like you guys, with all the... *southerisms*. He says y'all and has manners, 'yes ma'am' and 'no ma'am' when he's talking to the girls, trying to get pregnant women off their feet. Maybe he's just polite - he seems just polite. Not southern polite though. Not that fake southern polite, where 'bless your heart' means something terrible."

"Who *fakes* something like that?" Tara asks, her voice on edge. Daryl had lain down a while ago, his back to them, Judith alongside him. His daughter is asleep but he isn't. He's listening and he rolls his eyes at that. Tara's the pot calling the kettle black, isn't she? If memory serves him, she'd faked a lot, done a lot to be ashamed of, been on the *wrong* side of this conversation but he just rolls his eyes. 

This crap, he will *not* entertain. And the only one who can see his face is Michonne, who is also silent, not always awesome at the word thing either. She's looking at him, her eyes on his for a moment but her expression doesn't change. He knows what she's thinking - she's thinking what he's thinking and she'll say so when the time's right.

"I...dunno why. I haven't figured that out. I didn't say it was an issue -"

"How is that not an issue. Who fakes that?" Tara interrupts with the same question. "And have we done a head count? There's, like, no one here. Where are our people?" Jesus Christ, is this bitch trying to incite mass hysteria?

"I have. Our people are all here." Michonne, the voice of reason finally decides to get involved. "The Kingdom has settled in the wing to the left of the us, Hilltop to the right." She says nothing more, just let that sink in and hopes it's enough to point out how nuts this might seem to the outsider. They're quiet for a long time, each in their own heads for just a moment, then turning back to Denise. 

"I just don't think it's a bad thing, and someone might fake an accent for any number of reasons. Hell, he might just like the way it sounds, he might have fucking Foreign Accent Syndrome. Don't ask, I'm not giving lessons in psychiatry right now. I don't know, but I think it's important. To him To him as a person. Not it a bad way. it's just something I noticed he does." 

"Ok, so he does a weird thing. A lotta people right here in this room do some weird fucking shit...some even weirder than the weird thing he's doin’. Maybe someone will talk to him about it in the morning, maybe not. I think it's time to turn in either way..." They're hesitant but exhausted. Michonne is right.

And when they're finally down and mostly out, Rick, his voice close to Daryl's ear, asks the question he'd been waiting for. And Daryl gives him the answer he's been waiting to give him. Rick says nothing else...well he might have gone on for an hour but Daryl wouldn't have heard. He's dead asleep, out cold enough that he figures Rick might've considered checking his pulse once or twice.

Whatever. He hopes Rick got the rest he needed, because Daryl sure did. Judith did. Carl did. Early the next morning, he wakes up first, face to face with his boyfriend but it isn't long before he opens his eyes. He doesn't talk, feels like Daryl might be the one about to do the talking for once. This time, he's right.

"Are you comfortable?" Daryl asks. He nods. "Are the kids safe?" Another nod. "Then I don't see a damn thing wrong here. Your brain ain't right, bein out there so long, after everything. The guy ain't creepy, just different. Leave him be. Go back to sleep."

Rick looks at him a long time and he looks right back...then the other man closes his eyes and Daryl knows that's the end of it. Before he drifts off, he feels Michonne's hand on his shoulder. She gives it a squeeze, then it's gone again. Maybe a thank you, maybe a 'job well done', the stuff Michonne does and and doesn't do means a lot of shit, sometimes all at once. He doesn't put much thought into it. They just trust each other and that's what's important.

Just as he'd expected, their host isn't the one who greets them the next morning. His husband has either taken it upon himself or been sent as an ambassador...Either way, he comes bearing fresh baked breakfast pastries and a ridiculously large thermos of hot coffee. Real coffee, not that instant shit. apparently Troy 'won't tolerate that shit'. Daryl doesn't give a fuck how or where he's getting it after this long like some of the other might be. 

It's been too fucking long to ask questions. Except maybe one but he'll give the guy a second to maybe get to it first. 

"You're wondering where your little girl is? She's in the main house, my son snuck in here this morning and stole her. The other kids too. They're holed up watching Adventure Time in the family room. That's how Wyatt rolls in the morning and he's...friendly. Sorry. He's foe sure not sorry at all. But I'm sorry if you were worried." Nick explains, not looking as sheepish as he is probably trying to. Rick looks disturbed, probably that he didn't notice her absence but she's obviously fine. Daryl gives him a look, nods to his coffee.

"Gonna get cold," He says. Rick nods and keeps quiet. Good. This guy seems nice and no less creepy than his husband. Michonne genuinely smiles when she thanks him. 

But he doesn't leave straight away. He looks slightly uncomfortable, his hands twitching, fingers knotting together. "Something wrong?" She asks. Daryl figures it's not the suspicious look Tara is shooting him from the corner. But yeah, he's got something he thinks needs saying. Daryl is pretty sure what it might be and agrees, I just glad it's coming from their hosts. That simplifies things, oddly enough. He thinks Michonne thinks so too, her body language is relaxed, she's still smiling, enjoying her breakfast.

"Nothing *wrong*. just an...observation," Nick says.

"Oh?"

"Not so much mine but my son's, actually. So now it's mine. I've been to both ends of the this place this morning, brought three baskets. I figured you guys got the least sleep so I stopped here last. You did hear what we said about the mattresses, right? There's plenty. We made sure there's at least one for each apartment...And this part of the complex has more than one apartment, just like the rest of the place. You really don't all have to stay in here together but I'm sure that's not why you're doing it. Look, I guess...I guess I just wanted to say I noticed there's a pretty distinct division between the three different groups. That's not a problem, I'm assuming you guys spent a long time out *there*, more time than them. But it's safe here. And I know that's just what I might say if it wasn't but it's safe, ok? And, on a more personal note, you're gonna tweak my husband out sooner or later. It's not like he'll make it a problem, just might get a little distracted and I'd call it a personal favor if you'd all just not be too fucking weird for that long, ok? I'll owe you one," he promises. He's out the door before anyone can say a thing.

Michonne turns to the rest of the them, smirking. "And there you have it. Their kid stole our children in the night, Troy is, in fact, a weirdo as expected. An easily distracted weirdo. Sound like anyone we know?" Whether they mean to or not, everyone's attention turns to eugene. "Nick seems twitchy but kind and he asked us nicely for a favor. And we're gonna give it to him."

A sound outside breaks the peace and all but a few people them are running to the windows. It was a sharp, loud bang, not unlike a gunshot but in reality is only Abraham with a hammer, not a gun, alongside Troy and a few others. Getting to work right off, apparently. Settling. Making a home and not asking for trouble. 

"In a minute or so, we should be getting our butts out there to do the same." Michonne remarks as she's finishing up her coffee. She's not asking, she's telling. Eugene is the first to move, throwing back the hot liquid, maybe a little too fast as he rushes out the door, remembering the conversation he and Troy had had the night before.

They watch him shuffle up to the other man, talking animatedly. The look Abraham shoots Troy is apologetic but goes unnoticed as the two wander off in another direction entirely.

Forty five minutes later, there's a knock at the door, well it sounds more like someone tapping at it with their foot and Eugene Is there, looking like the cat that ate the canary. His hands are full, he's holding a box full of energy efficient light bulbs that he sets on the counter before immediately taking one out, fitting it into the socket. A few turns and...

"Let there be light," he says. "Water heater will take an hour or so to warm up and this is a temporary fix, mind you, so let's use the electricity sparingly until the roof is done and it's got an autonomous power source. We're drawing off the main grid right now...Troy says if we're gonna crowd up, we might wanna do it at either end of the building because that's where he started with the solar panels. He'll have those wired by the end of the day. But we can stay here if we want, if he's got help up there to finish up."

"He say anything else?"

"Yeah...um, he said 'your friends are kinda weird, huh?' "

 

****

 

"So, it's not hard to notice the... weirdness here? Like, I get it, you're all paranoid and thinking this is too good to be true and wondering when the other foot will drop. So I'll be straight with you. The house rules are few and simple. You guys know yourselves best, if there's a job that needs doing and you know how to help, jump in. Wherever you know you're useful, don't be shy. you're all adults, we're not gonna be assigning chores and shit, that's fucking weird."

"I was a Marine, Sasha's the best shot I know...might be good to have a wider rotation on guard," Abraham says. 

“Awesome. We're hitting the ground running. Oh! before I forget, Troy says you can have your weapons back. He figures you’re harmless. Coop was an army ranger and he was raised in a cult - no offense but I think he'd just confident in his ability to take you should the situation arise...anyone else?"

"My sister and I were raised our whole lives on a farm, I went to college for agriculture, we can help with crops and livestock. horses are her specialty."

"Very cool. I could use your help in the garden and Gretchen probably won't kick her out of the stables."

"We noticed the trees..." Jerry chimes in.

"You know trees? Awesome."

"Well, we know trees down south but I'll bet it won't be too hard to figure out with a bit of help."

"There's a fucking library inside. ask Troy about trees and he'll throw every book he's got in there at ya."

"Should I duck?"

"If he's got his back to you and you don't think 'catch' is a better option... dealer's choice man. But he doesn't like his books disrespected. Don't take one to the face if you don't have to cause some of them are heavy as hell but, well, I think you'll do fine. You might catch him if you hurry, He's in there with Eugene now."

Jerry gives Daniel a look. "Dude I ain't running, that's your job. Skinny guys run, fat guys get a participation award," he says. Danny rolls his eyes but laughs and takes off running to the house. Nabila grabs his beard before he can make a go of the trek, himself. "Oh, my kids are there?" 

"Worry not, They were part of Wyatt's little 'heist' this morning. they went willingly. I think they have the same friendlies my boy has. Biggest smiles I've ever seen, I think...anyway, they're currently navigating a blanket/pillow labyrinth or glued to the television. Sorry in advance for getting them on the Adventure Time but it was unavoidable. The world's 'I’ve never seen adventure time' are literally nowhere to be found in Wyatt's vocabulary so he defaults to dragging you off and force feeds you as much as you can stand in one sitting...and don't worry, his fort - making skills are on point. Structurally sound, I mean. Like, if we don't take it down, it'll be there til his birthday." 

Nabila smiles and nods. Yep, that's her babies and her babies’ happy is an acceptable excuse for their absence. She let's Jerry go with an apologetic kiss. "Better hurry."

"I was tryin..." he gets a lot loving swat for that time send him on his way.

 

Daniel has already made it to the door but hadn't moved when Jerry shows. "Dude, wtf?" Then he sees. Through the paned glass door is a beautiful home, untouched, pristine, through the tests of the ages - never mind the apocalypse. This wasn't one of the those cheesy prefab numbers like at Alexandria. This was a home. He knows what Daniel is thinking. He'd been a teenager when the virus hit, lost his family in months, maybe weeks, Jerry wasn't sure. Zeke was Daniel's family when he met them. A *home* has to be jarring for the battle worn young man but before he can even think of a way to comfort him, the door is opening and there's a girl, a woman, in her 20's - heavily pregnant or there was something else going on there.

She's got a toddler on her hip and a little boy Wyatt's size clinging to the back of her leg. "Don't mind the growths, I'm told they eventually fall off...you're looking at my husband's last shot at a girl though. Maite is performing a vasectomy. I'm gonna make her film it. You guys are new ones, come on it, don't worry about your boots, just scuff em on the mat and you're good to go. Until Mercy sees you. Then I hope you're not shy because those clothes ain't leaving this place before they've been through the washing machine."

"Library," Daniel chokes after the door closes behind him. Jerry is slightly concerned when he jumps at the sound. He'd practically had to drag him inside, had never thought this might be a button but ok, this might be a 'Zeke, do your thing kind of moment'. 

"We're looking for Troy. Nick said he has books on how to care for the trees around here. We had a grove down in Georgia but that's obviously a different climate..." Alicia laughs and beckons them to follow.

"Books? Nick probably didn't wanna scare you away...Troy has charts and almanacs and shit I'll never begin to understand..." As they pass the kitchen, the woman from the night before pops out with the same bright smile. Alicia hands the toddler off and nudges the other boy toward 'grandma'. "Go play with the other kids, Owen. please, sweetie? Mommy has shit to do..." The boy says nothing but she's satisfied that she can leave without a tantrum and begins to climb the staircase, Jerry close behind. The woman stops Daniel with a knowing look and pulls him into the kitchen.

The next time Jerry sees him, he's out of his armor, wearing someone else's clothes, dipping milk in cookies with red rimmed eyes. That lovely woman is beside him, rubbing his back gently in soothing circles. No children in sight...but the labyrinth Nick mentioned has crept out of the family room into the Hall. When Nick said library, he fucking meant it. It stood vertically to the top of both stories of the house and was beautiful. A Disney princesses dream come true. Troy hadn't thrown anything at him, just stacked book after book in his arms until he could barely see the other man. 'Yeah, that'll do' he muttered, along with a warning to take care of them, 'they're old as fuck', and then he was gone, off to whatever he had been doing before. 

Alicia had been waiting outside the door, laughed when he finally emerged. "Need any help?" 

"My wife would kill me if I had a pregnant lady carrying books for me."

"At least the one off the top? So you don't end up dead at the bottom of the stairs?"

"Agreed." 

He left without disturbing Daniel. He'd talk to Zeke about Daniel when he got out there. Maybe he just needs some time in a blanket fort. He went from reading Great Gatsby in class to a warrior. Obviously he needed this...but he was getting in that kitchen come hell or high water. Cobbler doesn't make itself.

**Author's Note:**

> I want to give credit to meteoraangel for giving me the inspiration for the Odessa compound. He was the spark that ignited this madness and I totally ran with it


End file.
